Every Summer Has Its Own Story
by SomewhereApart
Summary: AU. Welcome to Camp Storybrooke, a summer camp in rural Maine where many of our favorites will come together for a summer of bonfires, hijinks, night swimming, and perhaps, a romance or two. Regina Mills returns for her second summer as a camp counselor with a heavy heart, but can a certain British newcomer help her see that she's ready to move on?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_ I'm halfway through the next chapter of Give Me No More..., so hopefully that will be up soon. But in the meantime... Who wants to go to summer camp?

* * *

The trees outside the car window are lush and green, the June sun filtering through in long fingers of light that shine even through the tinted windows of the towncar.

It's not far now. Half a mile, one left turn, and she'll be back.

It's been less than a year, but it feels like a lifetime, and for a moment Regina regrets deciding to return after everything she's been through. The drive through town a few miles back had assaulted her with memories - late night pizza runs, and secret dates at the single-screen movie theater. Standing on the corner of Mifflin and Main, sipping Big Gulp Cokes from the 7-11, and talking about her course selections for the fall. Whether she'd take Political Science (her mother's demand) or Eastern Philosophy (she'd been curious, wanted to see the world through the eyes of other people). Daniel had told her to take philosophy; she'd registered for Poli Sci. Defying her mother, as lovely as it sounded from this little Maine hamlet, was never really an option for Regina Mills.

And that's why she's here, she thinks with a heavy sigh, looking away from the window to the woman riding next to her.

Her mother.

Her mother who sits straight-backed with a pinched expression, who echoes her sigh, except Cora's is tinged with disappointment.

"Are you sure this is how you want to spend your summer, Regina?" she asks, for the thousandth time.

"Yes, mother," Regina tells her, again, tired of the script and trying not to let her annoyance color her voice. She fails.

"You don't think it's a bit... beneath you?"

_Don't sigh. Do not sigh. If you sigh, she will criticize._

"I enjoy it," Regina says carefully, then adds, "And it looks good on an application - it's character building, shows I have a sense of responsibility. It helped me get into Yale."

Appealing to her mother's ambition usually works, but today all it gets her is a stern reminder that, "I helped you get into Yale, dear. Lord knows your GPA was abysmal."

_3.89_, Regina thinks bitterly. _It was a 3.89_. It was nearly perfect. Nearly. Would have been pristine, if she hadn't struggled under the weight of make-up homework for four AP classes during a severe bout of mono that had kept her out of school for nearly a month in her junior year.

Anger burns under her skin, hot and heady, making her fingers shake. She grips them together tightly and looks back out her window, exhaling slowly as the car slows and turns, passing under the arched sign with kitschy wooden letters spelling out CAMP STORYBROOKE.

She imagines all the bad feelings washing away as she passes through, like a cleansing waterfall, cool and sweet, and she tries very hard not to listen to her mother - she's only stuck in this car for moments more.

"An internship would have looked even better," Cora says, and Regina purses her lips and breathes carefully, in and out, thinks of the imaginary waterfall.

Let it all roll off... you're almost free...

"Regina," her mother says, displeased with being ignored.

"I heard you," Regina tells her evenly. "And anyway, I missed the application deadline."

"Yes," Cora says coldly - the rout they'd had over that particular "oversight" on Regina's part had been fierce and loud. Had left Regina with a red, stinging palm print on her cheek that she'd had to bundle her scarf high to hide when she stomped out of their chalet to take her seething anger out on the slopes. "I remember that, dear."

The car stops, blessedly, and Regina cannot climb out fast enough.

It's a warm day, made even warmer by the artic temperature Cora had insisted the towncar be kept at. Regina's ankle-length white slacks and the short-sleeved cashmere sweater that clings to her (tastefully, of course. One mustn't look slutty) don't help any either. It's a ridiculous outfit to arrive at camp in, and there'd been a terse disagreement about it this morning when Regina had arrived for breakfast in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Regardless of their destination, they weren't mongrels, her mother had told her. She wasn't on the clock yet, and so she would comport herself with class and style. One of her slick pumps (the same teal blue as her sweater) wobbles slightly on the gravel of the parking lot as she steps out of the car, and Regina blushes uncomfortably and hopes there is nobody here to witness her looking like a fool. Like a rich, snotty fool.

She scans the edge of the lot and sees only a few people - the unmistakably lithe lankiness (and criminally short shorts) of Ruby Lucas, facing away from her at the snack hut, she thinks she sees the messy blonde waves of Emma Swan with her, and that might be David and Mary Margaret canoodling in the distance, but she can't make them out clearly enough to be certain. Daniel would be here, she thinks with a sharp pang of loss. He'd have come in yesterday, would have stood waiting for her all morning if he had to, so that he could've whisked her away from her mother with a polite (albeit unappreciated by Cora) smile, and strong arms to schlep her bags, and she'd have been relieved and giddy, and she cannot think about this for one second more, so she continues her sweep of the area.

There's a guy she doesn't recognize perched on the fence in front of a beat-up old sedan - short, dirty blonde hair, a chin covered in stubble, in jeans and a Beatles t-shirt and Ray Bans. He's watching her, she notices almost immediately, and so she looks away quickly, retreats to the rear of the car before her mother even has a chance to emerge from her side.

Joe, their chauffeur, had popped the trunk before getting her mother's door, so she lifts it and reaches for her duffle bag - pauses a moment and toes out of her shoes, the gravel digging into the soles of her feet but she doesn't care. She reaches down and grabs the shoes (wants to leave them right there and walk away from them, but they're Louboutins, and her mother would kill her), then heaves the duffle onto her shoulder with a grunt. It's nearly as heavy as she is.

"Regina, dear, put that down," her mother hisses as she comes into view. "Joseph will carry the luggage to your cabin."

Regina shakes her head, "I've got it, mother," she insists, adjusting it slightly, then reaching in for her smaller bag and lifting that, too.

"Miss Mills, why don't you let me-" Joe tries, but Regina is adamant. He's only offering because her mother is there; Joe lets her fend for herself most of the time when he chauffeurs Regina alone, and for that she's grateful.

"Really, it's fine. It's not that far to the cabin," It is, but she doesn't care. She will not have her belongings carried by the help like some incapable princess. Not if there's any risk of running into anyone she knows - or worse, doesn't know. "And you have a long drive back to the airport."

"If you're certain," he says, and Cora huffs her name behind him, but Joe has her back - he always has her back. He smiles and holds out her handbag - she'd left it behind on the floor of the car in her haste to flee. Shit.

Regina tries very hard to look like it's not a strain when she opens her palm to take it from him, but that's when Cora puts her foot down.

"_No_," she says firmly. "I don't care if she _is_ certain, you will carry her belongings to the cabin, or this will be the last time we require your services, Joseph."

Regina freezes, and so does Joe.

_That bitch_, she thinks, and then she berates herself mentally for speaking ill of her mother - and squeezes her eyes shut with a reminder that sometimes her mother deserves it and this is one of those times.

She opens her eyes again with a resigned sigh and tilts the duffel bag toward Joe, who hefts it with an apologetic face angled just right to be hidden from Cora's view. She gives him a tight smile, and shifts her smaller bag to her newly freed shoulder, then adjusts her grip on her handbag.

"He can take them both," Cora says stiffly, but Regina will not - will _not_ - traipse through this camp with nothing but her purse while this perfectly kind man hauls her things like a pack mule. Thankfully, her mother has found something else to criticize before Regina even has a chance to respond: "Put your shoes back on."

"Mother," she says tightly, "I'll break an ankle on this gravel in these pumps."

"Nonsense," Cora says, "It's only a few feet to the footpath."

"Goodbye, mother," Regina attempts, but her mother's face goes hard - harder than the stony mask she'd already worn, and she says, _Regina, shoes_, with such firmness that Regina drops the pumps and toes back into them, her face burning, bits of gravel grinding against the ball of her foot where they'd stuck to her skin.

She cannot get away from this woman fast enough.

Once she's obeyed, Cora's face melts into a sweet, saccharine smile and she steps forward, wraps her arms around Regina in a brief hug. Regina finds herself hugging her mother back automatically, despite her anger. Despite everything, she knows she'd feel guilty if she stalked off without a proper goodbye. "Be good, dear," Cora tells her, and Regina nods, steps back.

"Goodbye, mother," she says, forcing a smile. "I'll see you in August."

She turns without another word and heads for the path, studiously avoiding Beatles-shirt-and-Ray-Bans as she steps onto the path not ten feet away from him, Joe following behind her. She already knows her cabin assignment - Monarch, one of the middle school cabins - it's halfway up the hill and she teeters on her heels until she is out of view of the parking lot and then kicks them off angrily, wants to kick them all the way up the hill, but bends to scoop them up and shoves them into her purse. Joe, bless him, says nothing, just pauses with her when she stops and then follows again when she continues.

By the time they get to the cabin, he is panting and sweating lightly, and she points him to the bed that will be hers (bottom bunk, closest to the door). He lets the duffle fall next to it with a heavy thud.

"I hate to say this, Miss Mills," he tells her with a grimace, "But your mother may have been right about that bag. Did you pack cinderblocks?"

Regina chuckles and drops her own bags onto the mattress, then shakes her head. "I'd have managed on my own. But, thank you. Sorry if she's pissed on the drive back."

"I can survive Cora's temper," he assures her before offering his hand. Regina takes it, shakes, and he says, "Have a good summer - enjoy your freedom," before dropping her fingers.

"I will," she assures, then thinks _Daniel_, and adds, "I'll try." She rocks slightly on her heels, then gestures for the door. "You'd better go - mother doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Don't I know it," he smirks, and then he leaves, and Regina is finally, finally alone.

She slumps down onto her mattress, and the springs squeak noisily. Ordinarily it would annoy her, but as she stares up at the bottom of the top bunk, she can't help but grin.

She's free - for the next nine weeks anyway, she's free.

No tea times, no society functions, no four inch spike pumps that cost more than some people pay for a month's rent. Just kids, and cafeteria food, and the stables, and the craft house, and the lake, and fresh air.

She lays there for five whole minutes, breathing deeply, and then she sits up and reaches for her duffle.

Time to settle in.


	2. Chapter 2

She's a long way off, but within calling distance, standing next to the sleek, black car she's just climbed out of. There's a driver, but he holds the door on the other side, and in a moment he sees why - an older woman appears, chestnut hair, trim pantsuit, but Robin barely sees her. He's too taken with her daughter.

She's not his type.

He doesn't usually go for the preppy girls, but she's caught his eye. Hard not to, the way she rolled up in a Lincoln towncar with darkened back windows, stepping out into the sunshine in clothes that are absolutely inappropriate for the surroundings. She wears them well, though, even if she doesn't quite stick her landing when she digs those spike heels into the dirt. Wears them well, but looks uncomfortable, he thinks, and he wonders if she's a first-timer. If she thinks babysitting a bunch of kids for the summer sounds like an easy way to pass the time.

She's in for a rude awakening if she does - if she thinks those pristine white pants will stay that way for more than a day. But she is awfully beautiful.

And then she's looking around, frowning, and when she sees him looking she looks away, steps back, rounds the car and lifts the boot. She hesitates for a moment, then he sees her bend and come back up with those shoes in her hand. And then she reaches in and hoists a bag as big as she is onto her shoulder. It clearly takes effort, but she doesn't seem bothered by it, and Robin thinks perhaps he's misjudged her.

She takes a step, and he can't see much now, just her back. She's clearly talking to her mother, and then she's trying to balance a smaller duffel on her other side, and the driver is there, but he's not helping her. And then he is, the larger bag foisted onto him, and him Robin can see - can see the way he looks at the girl like he's apologizing for something without saying a word.

He observes curiously as the girl drops those ridiculous shoes a moment later, and stuffs her feet back into them, disappears from view and then returns, stalking in his direction. Robin thinks maybe he should make an attempt not to stare at her, but she doesn't spare him so much as a glance, so he figures he's safe. She keeps her head ducked low, but as she draws closer he gets a decent look at her face. She looks murderous, and perhaps sad, and, yes, really beautiful.

The chauffeur follows behind with the heavier bag, and the way he looks at the girl is almost like pity.

Robin watches her walk away, watches her walk up the hill toward the cabins (definitely a counselor, then, although one who knows her way without asking, so she mustn't be new), and has to hook his ankles into the lower rung and lean back to keep her in sight as she ascends.

Just before she moves out of his range of vision, she stops and discards those ridiculous shoes, shoving them angrily into her pocketbook. Even from here, he can see the lift and fall of her shoulders as she sighs, and then she keeps walking, and she's gone.

Who is she? he wonders. What's her story - for clearly there is one.

Before he gets a chance to wonder any more, there's another car pulling in next to his. The guy who climbs out is about Robin's same age, with short brown hair, and gold-rimmed aviators planted on his face. He tips them up and looks at Robin for a second, and then smiles.

"Hi," he greets, rounding the car and spinning his key ring around his forefinger absently. Robin gives him a _hello_, and then the other guy catches his keys in his palm and says, "You must be new. I'm Jefferson."

"Robin," he replies, and they strike up an easy conversation - names, and origins, and camp, and all that.

He nearly forgets about the girl in the towncar entirely, particularly when a leggy brunette with scarlet streaks in her hair wanders over to greet Jefferson. Ruby, she's called, and she tells him that her grandmother works in the cafeteria here, has since she was just a girl. She grew up here in Storybrooke, just down the road a few miles, and she's friendly and helpful - she knows everyone and everything, and as it's Robin's first year (not as a camp counselor, but at this camp in particular), he does his best to befriend her. It's not hard.

"Oh, so _you're_ Robin," she says, when he offers his hand in introduction. She takes it, and shakes, smirking, and Robin is suddenly wary.

"Does my reputation precede me?"

She shrugs, says, "No, I just saved your ass, that's all." His lifts his brows, curious, urging her to go on. "Robin Locksley. From London. Teaching archery."

Jefferson snorts, says, "Seriously? Who are you, freakin' Robin Hood?"

Ruby nods, says, "Exactly. You know Faye's sense of humor - she gave him the Fox cabin."

Robin lets out a groan, as Jefferson laughs next to him. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful. Surely a bunk full of teenage boys will be able to overlook that opportunity for torture - he'll be finished before he even begins.

"Oh, God bless that stuck-up bitch," Jefferson says, earning himself a smack on the arm and furtive look around from Ruby. Faye Cobalt is the camp director, and while Robin has had very little interaction with her outside the hiring process, she seems like the type who wouldn't appreciate the name-calling (not that anyone would). She seems uptight, reminds him of the nuns at that Catholic school he'd been forced into for two years before he'd nicked enough school property to actually get kicked out. Apparently Jesus forgives many things, but not petty thievery from bored minors. "She really does have a cracked sense of humor."

"She does," Ruby agrees, and then she slings an arm around Robin's shoulders and gives him a friendly squeeze. "But I convinced her that the combination of all that would inevitably lead to distraction and chaos, and so she switched you. You have Jefferson's Jackrabbits, he has your Foxes."

"Ruby," Robin says her name with all the admiration he can muster, and when she says _Yeah?_ and smiles pleasantly at him, he continues, "You're my new best friend."

She laughs pleasantly, and Jefferson decides to take advantage of his newly discovered cabin assignment and schlep all his belongings up the hill. Ruby offers Robin an official tour of camp, which he eagerly agrees to, and it's not until nearly half an hour later, when they're rounding the corner of the craft cabin that he sees her again.

The girl from the towncar.

"Who is that?" He asks, entirely interrupting Ruby's retelling of the story of the Great Food Fight of 2012.

The girl looks quite a bit different now, and decidedly less polished, but it's still definitely her. The prep school princess from before is gone, that ebony hair pulled up into a ponytail that glints in the sun, now clad in a stop-sign red tank top with a distressed CAMP STORYBROOKE logo and cut-off denims that he'd think were blessedly short if he hadn't Ruby right in front of him with her arse nearly hanging out for perspective. She's got great legs, he thinks dumbly, as she walks up to Jefferson a few yards away and gives him a hug. She's smiling, and Robin finds himself smiling in kind, even though her wide grin is not for him. He can't help it; she has the prettiest smile he's ever seen.

"That," Ruby says, interrupting his ogle, "Is Regina Mills. She's a rich kid, but cool. Her mom's some big shot DA, puts a lot of pressure on her. It took her like half the first session to loosen up and stop being a tight-ass last summer. Second year as a counselor, but she was with the Littles last year."

"And this year?" He asks, hoping desperately Ruby tells him she's been moved. He has the mid-level boys, that much he knows, and Ruby's just told him that the younger kids are all mostly housed down here, closer to the cafeteria. He's not sure what it is about Regina Mills (aside from that face, and that smile, and those legs), but he fancies her. Would like to see more of her rather than less.

"Middles," she confirms with a knowing smirk. Robin's not usually this transparent, but then the women around him aren't usually this casually beautiful. "By request. She, um," and then Ruby grows serious, something Robin wasn't sure she was capable of quite frankly, and continues, "She had a serious thing with one of the other counselors last year. Daniel. He had the cabin of boys next to hers, and the two of them were attached at the hip all summer. Practically engaged by the time they left."

Robin's heart sinks a little at that - of course someone so gorgeous was already taken. But then he recalls her phrasing, and questions, "Had?"

Ruby nods, watching Regina now, too. "He died. Boating accident, right after the summer ended." Robin feels the air go out of him at the news - he can't find it in himself to be happy the competition is gone if that's the way he's been taken out. He thinks of Marian, and her smiling face, and all the broken glass and the twisted wreckage of his car and all the blood. He wouldn't wish the kind of vicious sympathy he feels now on anyone, would never lay eyes on Regina Mills again if he could spare her the knowledge it seems they share. "He was a great guy, everyone was really devastated. Regina was there when it happened, she was pretty messed up about the whole thing last time I saw her." She plants a hand on her hip, cocks it, tilts her head and says, "Honestly, I'm kinda surprised she came back this year. I guess her mom really is a bitch if she wants to get away that badly."

Robin nods, absently, he's watching Regina closely now. Jefferson has said something to her that Robin couldn't see, but he knows they're talking about the same thing he and Ruby are, can see it in the way Regina closes off, her shoulders hunching slightly, her head tipping down, gaze dropping to the dirt. She nods, and she's not smiling anymore - he can't see much of her face, but he can see that - and Robin wishes the other guy would just change the subject already. Leave her alone. For a moment, he's irrationally at war between the urge to go interrupt their conversation, just to give her an out, and the knowledge that when she's been so scraped open the last thing she needs is a stranger butting in to talk to her. He stays rooted, and a moment later he's glad for it.

Jefferson has tipped Regina's chin up with his fingertips, and she gives him a weak smile, placating, he must have been trying to make her laugh. And then she leans into him, arms looping around him in a hug that is easy, and familiar, and appears very much to be needed.

He doesn't know her, he reminds himself. Her grief isn't a mirror of the hell he's had to work through to get where he is, and he shouldn't foist such assumptions upon her.

"Look, you seem like a nice guy," Ruby says, shaking Robin out of this thoughts, and he realizes he's been staring for far too long. "And god knows, she could probably use one, but don't get your hopes up too far, okay?" He nods. "And if you're gonna go for it, stay away from suggesting a romantic boat ride or a picnic on Firefly Hill, and just pray to whatever higher power you may or may not believe in that you don't have any campers named Daniel."

"Duly noted," Robin tells her, tearing his eyes away from Regina when she steps back out of Jefferson's embrace. She's smiling again, but it's not nearly as bright as before, and he feels a bit like a creep - like he's prying into her private moments. So he changes topics, or rather returns to where they were, asking Ruby, "So how exactly does one get marshmallow fluff out of their hair?"

"Well, if you're me, you just go jump in the lake," she says, drawing a laugh out of him.

"Right, of course," Robin chuckles, and when he gives in to the urge to glance back in the other direction a few minutes later, Regina Mills is nowhere to be seen.


	3. Chapter 3

She had known it would be hard.

She just hadn't known it would be _this_ hard.

Regina has been at camp for less than half a day, and already her heart feels raw. Bruised. She'd known that coming back here would mean putting up with reminders of Daniel on a daily basis, but she thought she'd made enough progress, thought she'd worked through enough grief that she could handle it. And she thinks she probably could if it wasn't for everyone else.

She's gotten sympathy from Jefferson - and that she could handle, because he's Jefferson, and his moment of sincerity had been followed up by some stupid joke and then that was that, and he'd dragged her off for ice cream. But the pitying look from Aurora, that she could live without. The way she'd squeezed her hand, and said she was always there for her was nauseating - they're not close, they never have been. Regina despises pity, and it's all she feels like she's getting today. Empty words, and sad looks, and wasn't that what funerals were for? Hadn't they already been through all this? Was it really necessary to dredge it all up again?

All Regina wants is to settle into the normal camp routine, and it's a steady stream of Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.

_I'm so sorry for your loss_, we all miss him terribly, from the camp director, and _My door is always open if you need it_, from Dr. Hopper, and even a look - thankfully, not a word, but that _look_ from Granny when Regina had swung by the kitchen to steal a bowl of cereal mid-afternoon.

She's angry - actually _angry_ about it - and she's been angry all day, since her mother made her parade out of the parking lot in those stupid high heels. Every time she thinks she's found an escape, a place to breathe and calm down, there's someone else seeking her out and forcing her to talk about it - about him - and she's tired of it. She feels like Daniel is floating above and behind her, like a balloon tethered to her wrist, bobbing like a buoy to guide every well-meaning idiot to her side.

It's almost dinner time, and she should probably eat - all she's had is yogurt with fruit and granola for breakfast, that ice cream cone with Jefferson, and that bowl of cereal. But she doesn't want to be around people anymore - certainly not as many as she'll find in the dining hall - so she's here, in the stables. It doesn't seem to matter whether she's at camp, or home, or school, the stables have always been a place that calms her. The sweet smell of hay, the whinnies and shuffles of the horses as they mill around, the creak of the gate she's leaning against as it swings slightly against the chain holding it in place. It reminds her of when she was small, of her father holding the reins and leading her very first mare while she white-knuckled the saddle horn, afraid of falling. Of the thrill of each jump in the equestrian competition she'd won her senior year - perfect marks, even her mother couldn't criticize that (her hair, her outfit, the way she'd swung herself down off the horse too excited to be perfectly graceful - all those things were fair game, but the perfect score was not).

And here, now, it reminds her of so many afternoons spent guiding kids through their paces along with Daniel. It was how they'd met, where they'd fallen in love, and it should hurt, she thinks, to be here, but it doesn't. It helps. But she hopes everyone will think otherwise. Hopes nobody will have the good sense to bother her here. So far, it's working. She's been alone and unbothered for a whole twenty minutes now. She might just stay here until sundown, even if it means she'll starve. Regina is no stranger to a hungry night - her mother has made sure of that (_Are you sure you want to eat that, Regina?_ like one well-made steak that her own mother has procured for dinner will make her fat. And, _You can have dinner when you finish that essay, Regina, you don't want to fall behind and ruin your average again, do you?_ even though she's only just started the outline and it's unreasonable to expect it to be done before tomorrow. It's not even due for another week). She'll live.

One of the horses - a dapple grey that wasn't here last year - walks up to the fence where she's resting her chin over her crossed arms and sniffs at her, nudging her arm with its nose. Regina smiles.

She shifts until she can lift a hand and run it over the horse's velvety muzzle, murmuring to it how she should probably have thought to steal some apples for it, hmm?

Yes, she thinks. She's going to stay right here.

"Hi."

Regina's heart sinks as the sound of the familiar voice.

David. Shit.

Here we go again.

Regina sighs and steps back from the fence. "David..." she begins, and it sounds weary but not pleading, so at least there's that. "Please don't ask me about him. Every single person I've seen since I got here has asked me about him. And I don't want to talk about him."

He keeps walking toward her, his lips curved a little in something she can't quite call a smile.

"I wasn't going to ask about him."

Regina rolls her eyes. Of course he was. She know she was, because, "You've got that look."

"I was going..." he says, stopping right next to her and reaching out toward the dappled horse as well. He *has brought an apple, so the horse steps over eagerly and starts to munch. "...to ask about you."

"Same thing," Regina tells him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Can't even get a moment's peace in the damn stables, she thinks irritably. "Just leave it. And tell your precious girlfriend, too. I'm shocked she hasn't cornered me already ."

Mary Margaret is sweet, almost annoyingly so. She's loyal, and a good friend, and they'd gotten to know each other well last summer, commiserating over the particulars of counseling for the little kids - bed wetting, and the first-time-at-camp homesickness, and the horror that was a bunk full of 9 year old girls on a sugar high at lights out. So they're friends, certainly. But she cares too much, Mary Margaret, and Regina just wants everyone to stop caring for five minutes so she can catch her breath.

"She liked Daniel," David reminds her, and she knows that, but it's just such a stupid statement.

"Everyone liked Daniel," Regina mutters. "So talk to each other about him, and leave me out of it." She looks down, runs one sneaker-clad toe in the dirt and scowls. "Being here is hard enough."

To her surprise and relief, he agrees. "Alright." The horse has finished the apple, so David wraps his fingers around the top rung of the fence - then pulls them back when the horse comes lipping at them for more treats. "Are you still leading equestrian this year?"

She nods and turns back to the fence, crosses her arms over it and settles her chin there. "Faye was pretty adamant that they couldn't afford to lose Daniel's experience _and_ mine, and it's not so bad, being here," she tells him, and the dapple comes to her now, nostrils flaring and huffing, sniffing along her arm. "The horses always make me feel better - it's the people that are bugging the crap out of me."

He snorts a little laugh, and then smiles at her. "Present company excluded, I hope?"

Regina eyes him, looks him up and down, and shrugs. "You're doing alright so far."

The dapple wanders away, and he watches it go, then asks, "You want to take them out? It's you and me here this summer - we should probably familiarize ourselves with the new ones."

Ah. That's why he's here, she thinks. Visiting his new post. It's entirely possible that his happening across her was unintentional, and something about that makes Regina feel a little better.

She leans back and points down at her hips. "In these shorts?" They end high on her thighs, the ends frayed. Her mother would hate them. "I don't think so."

"Okay, how about dinner then?"

Regina shakes her head and says, "I'm gonna skip it tonight. Too many people butting into my business."

But her stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, betraying her, and David lifts his brows. "I think your stomach has other plans." Regina opens her mouth to protest, but he doesn't give her the chance. "Eat with me," he insists, "I'll protect you from all the nosy nellies, alright? They'll be no match for my withering glare and off-putting scowl."

She snorts, and gives in. Nods her head and smiles at him. "Well, aren't you just my Prince Charming," she teases, stepping away from the fence and heading for the stable doors.

"That's what Mary Margaret always says," he sighs dramatically, proudly, and Regina scoffs.

"You two are disgusting."

"Admit it, you've missed us," David says, slinging an arm over her shoulder as he leads her away.

He's right, she has, but she's not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ I know, I know, you guys, you want them to meet. ;) Soon, I promise. Very, very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

That peace and quiet she's been hoping for finally comes after dinner. She leaves David, who'd made good on his promise to keep the sympathizers at bay while she ate, and walks around the lake for a while, relearns the lay of the land. Carefully avoids anyone and everyone. By the time she heads back to her cabin, it's almost dark and she feels better. A lot better. About everything.

She loves this place, this camp, loves the respite it provides from her usual life. Particularly after two weeks spent with her parents. And she can tell she needs it, needs to be here, in this place, where there's so much of Daniel. Her therapist had told her it would be good for her, coming back, and for once she thinks he was right. He'd told her it would help her let go, and when she steps back into Monarch, she carries an odd sort of peace with her. She'd made her rounds, visited all their favorite spots, and it hurts, it does, but it's different than it was even a few hours ago.

Softer.

She feels the loss of him less keenly than she had in all those months at Yale, when she'd reached for her phone out of habit, hoping he'd have texted her, only to remember that no, he hadn't, he couldn't, he was dead. It was worse months ago, when her friends were planning their spring break trips, and she'd been almost relieved that her father's favorite cousin had died, that they'd had to go to Puerto Rico for the funeral. A week with family and the beach had been a good distraction from all the thoughts of Daniel, and how they'd talked of going to Paris and Versailles, and how he'd said he would kiss her under the Eiffel Tower if it was the last thing he did (it wasn't, the last thing he'd done was take her sailing, the two of them and his best friend and best friend's fiancée, and she will never sail again, never, not ever, not when she can still remember the sight of him, dead, can still feel herself screaming his name).

Regina swallows, and squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe she's not feeling him less, after all.

Still, she thinks this summer will be good for her. Help her heal more fully, and she's going to start with tonight. With taking some time for herself, to decompress before everything really gets rolling in the morning. She settles into her bunk with a pillow at her back and her iPad in her lap, but she's only four pages into The Book Thief when she hears a knock on the cabin door.

"Knock, knock," a familiar voice sing-songs, and Regina groans.

She'd known she couldn't escape Mary Margaret forever, but she thought maybe David would have been kind enough to actually pass along her request for privacy. It looks like she misjudged him - or maybe his girlfriend just didn't listen. Either way, Regina is in no mood. She'd been perfectly fine with her plan to read until midnight and then turn in. Alone. Unbothered.

Instead, she gets an ambush.

They pour into her room, clutching pillows and blankets and dressed in what could be considered pajamas (sweats and yoga pants and short shorts, tank tops and t-shirts) - Mary Margaret, and Ruby Lucas (who greets her with "Guess who's hosting the first-night sleepover?" It's not a question, not really, so Regina doesn't answer), Isobel Tinker and Emma Swan, and they're all grinning at her like she should be happy about this, but she is not.

"No," Regina sighs, watching as Emma strolls in like she owns the place and tosses her blankets on the farthest bottom bunk. Ruby is toting three bags, and sets them all down on the bed across from Regina while Mary Margaret unfurls the blanket she'd been wearing like a cape and drapes it over the one right next to it. Didn't they hear her? She repeats herself, says, "No," more forcefully, and then, "I am not being ambushed in my own cabin."

"Sure looks like you are," Emma smirks, easily catching the portable speakers Ruby tosses her way while Tink sets the plastic carton of cupcakes she's been juggling on the floor in the center of the room, then claims the bed next to Regina.

"You need to cheer up," Tink tells her, and Regina rolls her eyes. Hard.

"No way," she protests, flipping her iPad case closed and glowering at the petite blonde. "I am not having some sort of teary, bare your soul, group therapy slumber party."

Mary Margaret waves her hand, shaking her head. "David already told me," she assures, overly kind. It's not quite pity, just Mary Margaret's particular brand of warmheartedness. Still, Regina finds it grating. She was so looking forward to her book. "There is a complete moratorium on all talk of Daniel for the rest of the night. But it's been a year since we've all seen each other, and who wants to sleep all alone in their cabin, anyway?"

_Me_, Regina thinks darkly, but doesn't say.

Emma has finally gotten the speakers hooked up, apparently, because the room fills with music - Arcade Fire - and when Regina moves to the end of her bunk, she finds that Mary Margaret is already popping open the container of cupcakes - and ripping open a bag of chips, peeling the cover off a carton of dip.

How did she completely lose control of this situation?

Tink reaches for Regina, grabs her by the hand and tugs her from the bed. "C'mon, Regina. Up you go. You're not getting out of this."

She lets herself get pulled to her feet, then reclaims her hands and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning against the end of her bunk and eyeing the other girls suspicously. "No talking about Daniel? You all promise?"

"I don't really give a crap about your pain, Regina," Emma assures (the sentiment doesn't smart; they're not what anyone would consider close friends, and Regina is grateful that someone, at least, is willing to leave her the hell alone), snagging the pillow from her bunk and dropping it onto the floor. As she sits down on it, she says, "I'm just here for the cupcakes."

The blasé dismissal of the topic she absolutely doesn't want to stick on almost makes Regina smirk, but then Ruby pulls a bottle from the tote bag slung over her shoulder and adds, "And wine."

Regina's eyes go wide. "Ruby!" she hisses, lowering her voice as if the walls have ears and stalking over to the other girl. "You are not seriously planning on drinking that in my cabin."

But Ruby's already pulled a Swiss army knife from her pocket and pried out the corkscrew. "Lighten up, Regina," she sighs. "There's one bottle and five of us. It's not like we're gonna get drunk."

"Half of us are underage," she reminds - only Emma and Tink are actually old enough to buy liquor. "Faye could fire us all. Maybe you all have a happy home to return to, but if I get kicked out of here, I'm back with my mother, and suffice it to say she is not my favorite person right now."

"When you put it that way, I'm with Regina," Emma chimes in, and Regina remembers she's not from a happy home, either. Still, she's reaching for the cupcakes and plucking up a chocolate one, peeling at the wrapper and biting into the cake. So much for solidarity.

Undeterred, Ruby is twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. "We'll only get in trouble if we get caught, and she's not going to do cabin raids on the first night. Camp doesn't even officially start until the orientation meeting tomorrow."

Regina eyes the bottle warily, watches Ruby pull the cork out and drop it to the floor.

"I had plans," Regina attempts, but she knows she's already lost. Mary Margaret is halfway through her first cupcake, and Ruby is already sitting down. "I was going to read."

"Great! You can read this," Ruby announces, pulling a stack of papers from her tote and holding them up to Regina.

"Camp rosters?" Emma questions, reaching forward and snagging a sheet. The other girls all lean in interestedly, and Regina sighs and resigns herself. Moves to the empty space they've left for her on the floor.

"Yep," Ruby confirms. "I... liberated them from the office computer this afternoon." She shifts to her knees and says, "But first..." She raises the bottle in her hand, "To Camp Storybrooke."

She takes a swig, then passes it to Mary Margaret, who holds the bottle up and says, "To old friends," then drinks, passes to Emma. She has a mouth full of cake again, and points mutely a Tink, who takes the bottle and lifts it.

"To this week of grace before the children descend," drinks, and passes it to Regina.

She takes the bottle with a frown, and swallows down the urge to be the good girl. It looks like they're doing this, whether she wants to or not.

So she takes a deep breath, toasts, and says, "To a whole summer away from my mother," and then sips. It's red, and pretty cheap, but it's not _bad_, and Regina licks the taste of it off her lips before passing the bottle back to Emma, who's finally free for a drink.

She lifts, and declares, "To hot, new, foreign camp counselors," then takes a long drink while the other girls laugh.

"Ugh, and there are several of them this year," Ruby informs dreamily, dropping a handful of dixie cups into the snack pile in the center and then stretching out on her belly, shuffling through the papers in front of her.

Emma grabs the cups and pours, and passes, until each girl has her own little portion of contraband wine.

"Who?" asks Tink, shifting onto her knees.

"Well, Graham is back, but he's not new," Ruby concedes. "He's with me this year, in senior camp."

Regina frowns. Graham had been with the middles last year. He was a nice guy, she was hoping for a familiar face just down the hill - one a little calmer than Jefferson. "Who replaced him in middles?"

"New guy," Ruby informs. "Robin Locksley - he's from London. I met him today, he's cool."

Ruby thinks most people are cool, though, so it's not a terribly ringing endorsement.

"Wait - English?" Emma asks as Regina reaches forward and steals a cupcake. "Tall, dark, and scruffy English?"

"Mmm," Ruby's face screws up a little, debating, "Not really all that tall, kinda blondish, but dark blonde, and yeah, kinda scruffy."

Regina blinks. Beatles t-shirt. Ray Bans. Watching her arrive looking like she was about to go shopping for Prada instead of hiking to camp.

"Oh, he was at my table at dinner," Mary Margaret pipes up. "He's doing archery with me, right?"

"Indeed he is," Ruby confirms, moving the papers around and finding another one.

"He's really cute," Mary Margaret admits, pushing her long, dark hair back over her shoulders, and when did camp talk devolve into boy talk? Is this how they're going to spend their whole evening?

"Aren't you practically engaged?" Tink asks, only a hint of accusation in her voice. "Leave the cute ones to the rest of us."

Emma smirks. "Yeah, hey, what's the deal with that? Has David asked you yet?"

"No," Mary Margaret says, deflating comically. "And I have no idea what he's waiting for, he knows I'm going to say yes." She flops back dramatically, somehow managing to snag her pillow on the way down and drop it beneath her head to cushion the fall.

"Maybe for you to be of legal drinking age at your own wedding?" Regina supplies, snarkily, earning an appreciative smirk from Emma.

Mary Margaret tips her head up, and scowls. "I'm twenty. We could push the date." She draws her ankle up to her knee and says to the ceiling. "Anyway, if I can't have the cute English guy, one of you should." She waves a hand dramatically, and says, "I leave you to fight it out."

"He was ogling Regina earlier," Ruby supplies, and Regina frowns. Suddenly, it's all eyes on her.

"He was?"

"Mmhmm," Ruby teases. "I was giving him a tour, he saw you talking to Jefferson. Started asking questions."

In all the things she'd considered that might make camp in the wake of Daniel a challenge, it had somehow never occurred to Regina to consider camp hook-ups. Great. One more thing she has to deal with.

She shakes her head, lifts her wine, and just before the cup reaches her lips, declares, "Not interested. Dating is the last thing I want to do this summer," before taking a deep swallow.

"I neither encouraged, nor discouraged," Ruby tells her, and for that Regina is grateful. Encouraging him would have meant she'd have to shut him down, discouraging him would have probably meant Ruby telling him about Daniel. And that's the last thing she wants - more people, strangers especially, knowing about her private pain.

"Well, if you're not interested," Tink smirks, "And he's as cute as Mary Margaret claims, I don't mind taking one for the team and distracting him."

"Be my guest," Regina tells her, before taking a bite of her cupcake. She tries to picture him in her mind - Robin Locksley, from London - but she'd been so angry she can't remember any of the details. Not that they matter. She needs time, and space, and solitude, and campers. Not romance.

"If you've got Graham, who'd I get stuck with?" Emma asks, already pouring herself a second glass of wine - or what she can manage of one. She up-ends the bottle and gets maybe half a pour, and Regina watches the last few red droplets fall as she chews.

"Umm..." Ruby flips back to another page, comes up with the answer. "Killian Jones. Also of England. And there's another English girl..." She flips. "Zelena Green - but she's with the littles. I haven't met her yet."

"Looks like it's the British invasion this year," Tink says, pulling the entire bag of potato chips into her lap.

"There's still you and Belle representing the Southern hemisphere," Regina points out, and Tink says _True, true... _and reaches into the bag.

Regina watches her pop a chip into her mouth longingly. She'd dig in, too, but she's already had dinner and a cupcake, and she's most of the way through this glass of wine, and that's plenty of junk food. Regina hears her own thoughts and frowns. She's at camp. She's at camp, and it's first night, and there's cupcakes and chips and someone has unearthed a bag of mini Snickers and thrown them in the pile, and that voice - that voice telling her she should hold back - it sounds suspiciously like her mother.

Annoyed with herself, Regina reaches over and thrusts her hand into the bag, grabs a chip and shoves it straight into the top of her chocolate cupcake. She smiles, satisfied, then bites and it's salty-sweet and delicious. Her mother and her calorie counts can go screw themselves.

"Where is Belle, anyway?" Mary Margaret asks, pushing herself to sit up again. "Shouldn't she be here by now?"

"Family emergency," Ruby supplies. "Something with her father. She's coming in tomorrow afternoon."

"She's still in middles?" Regina asks, and Ruby nods around a mouthful of Snickers, then just shoves the paperwork at Regina and waves pointedly.

Her intention is clear: Just read them all.

"Ms. Mills, care to give us this year's camp assignments?" Mary Margaret asks her, and Ruby points at her best friend as if to say _yes, yes, that's exactly what she'd meant_.

Regina downs the last of her wine and shifts, straightens her spine and clears her throat as she finds the appropriate pages. "Alright," she begins. "For the Littles, we have Mary Margaret with the Does, and David with the Bucks - that's disgusting, they even gave you matching animals this year."

"I know, right?" Ruby mutters, smirking.

Mary Margaret's lobs two mini Snickers, one at Regina, one at Ruby. Both hit their marks, but while Regina just lets hers fall, Ruby unwraps hers and pops it into her mouth.

"Shut it, both of you," she reprimands with no heat whatsoever, and Regina chuckles at her.

"Also with the Littles," Regina continues, "Zelena Green with the Monkeys, Aurora with the Mermaids and Philip with the Colts."

"They actually are engaged," Tink pipes up, earning a scowl from Mary Margaret and an interested brow raise from Ruby. "I ran into her this afternoon. Rock's the size of a moon."

"Ten bucks says she loses it in the lake by week four," Emma offered and Regina laughs at her.

"I'd take that bet, but you're probably right," Regina's tells her, then continues with her recitation. "Middles are me in Monarch, Robin Locksley with the Jacks, Jefferson in Foxes, Belle with the Dragonflies, Tink with the Sparrows and Neal Cassidy with the Wolves. Senior house one is Emma and Killian Jones. House two, Ruby and Graham."

Tink has picked up one if the staff directory pages, skims the list, and then says, "Oh, hey, Astrid's back in the infirmary?"

Ruby nods eagerly, says, "Oh my God, yes, and Leroy was here with little Nova yesterday, and that kid's unreal. So cute. They're renting a place down on Second now, I think."

BANG!

Regina startles at the violent opening of the cabin door, and Mary Margaret's wide eyes and slack jaw are all she has time to register before she feels a cold jet of water hit her back. She spins around, perhaps the worst thing she could do, because the next jet hits her right in the face, water flooding over her cheek into her eye, flushing mascara into it painfully. She cries out, more indignant than in pain and tries to push herself to her feet amidst a shrieking chorus of curses and scrambling from the other girls, and laughing from the guys she can't see. But her sneaker slides in a damp spot on the floor and she slips, her knee rapping hard against the floor when she hits it. Her eye still stings and she wipes at it foolishly, just makes it worse, both eyes squeezing shut out of reflex. Shit. She curls in on herself - one of those laughs is Jefferson, she'd know it anywhere, and he will show no mercy at the first sign of weakness. Sure enough, she takes jet after jet of water into her side - a sitting duck.

It's over in minutes, with Ruby hollering WHITE FLAG and Jefferson hooting his triumph and calling, "Alright, men, the ladies have surrendered. Ease off."

Regina uncurls and surveys the damage. A thick strip of her ponytail is plastered wetly to the side of her neck and shoulder, there's water in her ear (she tilts her head, shakes it out), and her eye's still smarting, but getting better the more she blinks. She dabs at it with the dry side of her tank top, growling her annoyance. The right side of her tank is wet from shoulder to hem, and she's soaked all down her back. The denim at her hip is so wet it's almost dripping. The other girls haven't fared any better.

A hand drops into her view, and she looks up to meet blue eyes and deep dimples. He's smiling apologetically, and says, "Sorry," and "Had to be done." Beatles t-shirt and jeans, she notes, and a gigantic Super Soaker hanging loosely in his grip. Robin. Who thinks she's worth ogling. Great. Was he the one responsible for her impromptu shower?

Regina ignores the hand he offers and pushes herself to her feet, glowering. "The face shot was a bit uncalled for."

"That wasn't me," he assures, and she finds herself believing him, particularly when he points at Ruby and says, "That was." She's wet, but not quite as wet as Regina. When she looks back, he's still holding his hand out for her, offering a handshake now instead of a lift up, and he makes this innocent face, his brows lifting slightly, so Regina lets her fingers slide into his cautiously. His hand is cold, but his grip is firm, and he introduces himself, "Robin."

"Regina," she answers in kind, before dropping his hand and pushing back her wet hair.

"Seriously?!" Emma gripes, pulling at the sky blue cotton plastered to her front. Her dark bra is now clearly visible underneath. "That was awfully hostile. Half of you are new!"

She's right - there had only been four of them. David and Jefferson, Robin and some guy she doesn't know. Dark hair, black t-shirt. He smiles at Emma, still brandishing his water gun, and rocks on his heels. "Killian Jones," he introduces, then he points toward Robin, "and Robin Locksley. Now we're not quite so new, yeah?"

"Initiation," Jefferson declares proudly, looking to David. "I think they did quite well, don't you?"

They did, Regina has to admit. She's hard-pressed to determine who got the worst of it. Mary Margaret, maybe, which means she defintiely wasn't David's target - he'd have shown more mercy than that.

"It was an admirable showing," David agrees, settling down onto the floor next to his girlfriend and kissing her cheek. Annoyed as she is, Mary Margaret can't help but smile. Regina feels a pang in her chest and looks away.

Robin steps closer, into her space, and confesses conspiratorially, "I'm fairly certain that shot to your face was Killian."

She looks at the other guy, frowns at his expression. Overly pleased with himself, smiling with smug glee. (Checking Emma out.) She can already tell he and Jefferson together will be trouble.

Regina's lips turn up into a tight smile as she turns to Robin, points at his gun. "Can I borrow that for a sec?"

He shrugs, hands it over without question, and Regina grins, lifts it quickly, aims, and fires a few jets right into Killian's face before he can react.

"Oi!" He shouts, lifting his arms to fend off the sudden attack.

Regina smacks the gun back into Robin's belly, ignores his _oof! _of surprise and berates Killian, "You're new here. We don't do super soakers to the face at camp. It's supposed to be fun, not painful."

His face twists into something that is somehow both a smile and a grimace, his head ducking contritely. Some girls might find it charming, she thinks. She doesn't. "Sorry, love," he tells her. "But look at how effective it was at bringing you down."

"He's right," Jefferson says, and, "Don't be a sore loser, Regina."

She watches as he steps closer to where they'd had their little pow-wow on the floor and scoops up the camp rosters that are now dripping wet.

"What do we have here," he says delightedly, dropping his water gun to the floor and collapsing onto the closest bunk with a loud whine of the springs. "Not fair keeping secrets from the rest of the class, Ruby."

The battle seems to be over, Killian and Robin finding dry places on the ground, leaning their backs against the bunks and Regina doesn't see any reason she should stay in these wet clothes, especially not when she catches Killian looking her up and down appreciatively. It seems he's an equal-opportunity ogler.

With a sigh, she walks around her bunk and digs into her duffel for something dry, then escapes to the bathroom.

She changes quickly, peeling off her soaked bra and tank top, shoving down the wet jean shorts and slipping into grey yoga pants and a deep purple camisole. Her hair is still half-wet, half-dry but it's warm enough that it'll dry on its own, so she pulls out the elastic holding the long locks back, wrings out the wettest parts, and then returns to the impromptu party in her bunk.

In retrospect, she should've seen it coming, but somehow she doesn't.

When she walks back out, Jefferson is standing right there, two feet away from the bathroom door, water gun in hand.

"That's cheating, Regina," he says simply before he unloads on her.

"Oh, come on!" she hollers, trying to evade, but he gets all up in her space, chases her into the corner, and she's just glad the gun is half empty or the pressure might actually hurt from this close. "Stop it! For fucks sake, Jefferson, I just changed!"

"Exactly," he tells her gleefully, and his next shot hits her right in the boob - and that one actually does hurt.

"Ow!" She swats at the gun, as he cackles maniacally and then he's shouting indignantly and spinning around.

There's a big wet splotch on the back of his t-shirt.

She expects to see Ruby or Mary Margaret coming to her defense, but it's Robin standing behind him, water gun in hand and aimed square on Jefferson. Huh.

"Oh!" Jefferson cries, sounding grievously offended. "Friendly fire?"

"Let the lady be," Robin says gallantly, tipping his weapon to the side. "I think she's quite wet enough."

He looks at Regina, then, and smiles kindly again. It's a nice smile, she thinks vaguely, but she's not some damsel in need of protecting.

Still, she appreciates the back-up, so she tilts her head and smiles back. "Hmm. Looks like chivalry isn't dead, after all." His kind smile widens into a grin, but she doesn't want him to get any ideas, so she reaches around Jefferson and pulls the trigger hard, unloading a single spray of water right into Robin's chest.

He startles, his jaw dropping, stunned, and Regina smirks with satisfaction as she steps around Jefferson. "Of course, there's something to be said for loyalty, too," she sneers, patting Robin patronizingly on the shoulder as she passes him. "And you've betrayed your team twice now."

Jefferson is laughing behind her as she flops belly-down onto her bed - if they're not gonna let her stay dry, there's no use in changing again.

As she reaches for another cupcake, she hears Jefferson tell Robin, "Don't ever think Regina Mills can't take care of herself."

"It's a mistake I won't make again," Robin grumbles, although he doesn't sound terribly upset. Sure enough, he's smirking when he finds his place on the floor again.

"All's fair in camp pranks and war," she retorts with a shrug, reaching for another cupcake as Jefferson asks if it's too early in the year for a kitchen raid. Tink reminds him they had dinner barely two hours ago, and Killian says something about how they should've gotten that pizza after all.

When conversation moves to the camp rosters, Regina licks at the icing on her cupcake and just listens. Observes. Tries very hard not to think about Daniel.

She's wet and her cabin is too full of people, she won't be sleeping for hours, if at all with this crowd. It's not at all the evening she had planned for herself - but as she watches Jefferson scoff and shove at the back of Ruby's head when she makes a joke at his expense (and watches Ruby turn around and whack him right back) she realizes that this? This is even better.

It's good to be back.


End file.
